


My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dry Humping, F/M, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Humor, Kissing, Laughter, Laughter During Sex, Sweet, Toothache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skoulson RomFest 2k16 REDUX - DAY 7 · 24 July<br/>free theme!</p><p>They just like to hear each other laugh.  Inspired by tumblr convos.  Title from Pablo Neruda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens

She's certain this is her first time.

His whole body shakes with it, and his smile widens, like it will threaten to take over his entire face.  
  
She looks at the television screen and tries to figure out what could be so funny.  After all, she’d drifted off. But then is drawn back to his expression when it bursts out again.  
  
He wipes a little at his eyes, and then sighs, and looks down at her curled against him on the mattress, leaning against his shoulder.  
  
“You didn't think it was funny?” he asks, downgrading another laugh to a giggle.  
  
“It’s not that,” she says, pushing herself up on her arm until they're eye level. “I've just never heard you laugh so much.”  Or, at all.  
  
His answer is to give her the most endearing smile, like he still can't believe she's here with him, or alive, even.  
  
It makes her face get hot, to be scrutinized so thoroughly. Even though a few hours ago, when she’d knocked on his hotel room door, he had kissed her like she was the only thing in the whole world he'd ever wanted.  
  
And that's the thing, Coulson… _Phil_ , is always so careful. Now she's discovered something surprising.   
  
Somehow _this_ seems even more like a gift than the kiss that started on her tear-streaked cheeks and ended carefully (accidentally?) on her mouth.  
  
He ducks his head down to his chest, thinking it over, or overthinking it (it's Coulson).  
  
“No, it's fine,” she assures him, putting her fingers against his arm, because she can. “It's _great_.”

She really means that. She’d love to hear him laugh again.  
  
“I guess I'm just....happy?” He looks up at her, like he’s asking if it’s the right answer. “Really happy.”  
  
He seems even more astounded than her at the revelation, as she leans forward and kisses his cheek.  
  
“Me too,” she agrees.  
  
Raising his hand to her face, he strokes his fingers along her hair, then along her jawline. “Good. I've always wanted to make you happy.”  
  
“ _Really_?”  
  
“My favorite mission to date,” he smiles, all open and earnest.  
  
“Has anyone ever told you you're corny?” she asks, with a flutter of her eyes.   
  
“Probably,” he sighs, and the frowny thing appears between his eyebrows. Like the moment has escaped them now.  
  
She puts her fingers on his chin and tilts it to get his eyes back on hers.  
  
“Has anyone ever told you they love you for it?”  
  
His eyes widen slightly, as she lets his face go. He's magnetized to her now.  
  
“No,” he whispers.  
  
“Well, they should have,” she says, then leans forward and kisses him softly on his lips, waiting until the last possible moment to close her eyes.

She's always wanted to make a physical connection, as a way to get closer. Impulsively, even. Like it’s engrained in her almost.  
  
Everything with him has been so opposite to that.   
  
And she does want this, she's been craving it, from the moment that he put his mouth on hers.  From the moment that they met, really, she just didn’t know what to call her crush on her 50-something employer.

She knows what to call it now.

So when she takes him by the wrists and moves his arms off his lap, and then replaces them with her, she feels him tense and wonders if he'll retreat.  If it’s too much, too soon.

“Phil?” she checks in, watching him run his tongue across his lower lip, like he’s calculating something.

Her fingers touch his chin again, and this time, he kisses her, steals the breath and the impulse right out of her with his own.

She feels her body tense with the surprise of it, with the shock of his tongue against her lips, and he sits back against the headboard of the bed while she stares at him.

“Too much?” he grimaces.

“No,” she says, starting to laugh. “No.”

It catches on, and he starts to smile, then laugh, too, until she’s pressed her head into his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap comfortably around her back.

When she finally gets control of it, she feels his lips press to her temple.

“I like to hear you laugh.”

It’s soft, said against her hair, as he breathes in deeply after. Her hand pressed to his chest feels so comfortable and warm there.

“Will you kiss me again?” she asks him, tossing her hair so that it’s out of her face.  “I’m prepared now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, being a tease and sliding his hands down to her hips, pulling her towards him as he bites on his lower lip.

“Yes!” she protests, drawing her face closer to his, but just out of range.  Moving away from him when he tries to reach for her mouth with his own.

He starts laughing again, but this time, it’s low and with the hint of pleased frustration.

She lets out a shriek wrapped in giggles when he manages to flip them over on the mattress so that he has her pinned beneath him, sliding his leg around hers to keep her in place.

They catch their breaths for a moment, trying to suppress laughter as they search each other’s faces.

That’s when she feels his hand snake under the hem of her dress, and her whole body jerks against him as his fingers dig in at her waist.

“Phil, no!” she starts to beg, between laughter. “Stop it! Not fair.”

“You’re ticklish,” he grins, ducking his head low to her ear, as she squirms.  For some reason, it sounds really suggestive, and his stubble scrapes along her neck as his lips make a trail after it.

“Yes,” she groans, finally getting a hand free, ready to repay the favor, when she gives up and sighs as he decides to nibble on the spot under her ear.

“I’ve discovered Quake’s weakness,” he tells her, when she groans, sounding very proud of himself.

She smiles and then feels his own mirror hers against her cheek.

Her hand grabs at his belt, and he pauses, just for a moment, then he covers her mouth with his, slow and exploratory, freeing her other hand.

Pulling his shirt free, she drags her nails up along his stomach, and feels his muscles tense.

No laughter, though, just an aroused groan, and she starts to pull the buckle apart as his tongue slides against hers, making her forget what she was doing.

Her hands hold his face, keeping him from pulling back, and she raises her hips towards his, frustrated.  His leg unlocks from hers, and he pulls her knee up beside his hip, sliding his hand along her bare thigh, putting his weight on her as he rocks their bodies together.

He fits against her like he belongs there, and she arches, breaking their kiss, sort of disbelieving the idea that she might actually come with all of her clothes still on, not wanting it to stop.

Their eyes lock as he grinds up against her, faster, sliding his knees further up and lifting her so he can get a better angle.

“Yes!” This is so intense, she feels like she just might burst from it, little pin pricks of light spreading out behind her eyes, as she shudders, and licks her way into his mouth, so appreciative.

She feels him gasp, then groan as he rides out his orgasm after hers, then falling forward on her, worn out, his heart beats against her stomach, as she strokes his hair.

“You _finally_ showed me something new,” she says, starting to giggle.

The laugh starts low in his belly, then finally comes out of him, loud, as he lifts his face up off her stomach and turns over.

“Gosh, you make it sound so romantic,” he answers grabbing the pillow next to him and swinging it over to pelt her with it, as she holds her hands up in defense.

“Hmm.” She yanks the pillow out of his hand and then fluffs it, and makes him raise up to slide it under his head, and then snuggles against him, brushing her lips over the stubble on his cheek.

“I just like to hear you laugh.”

**Author's Note:**

> Your Laughter
> 
> Take bread away from me, if you wish,  
> take air away, but  
> do not take from me your laughter.
> 
> Do not take away the rose,  
> the lance flower that you pluck,  
> the water that suddenly  
> bursts forth in joy,  
> the sudden wave  
> of silver born in you.
> 
> My struggle is harsh and I come back  
> with eyes tired  
> at times from having seen  
> the unchanging earth,  
> but when your laughter enters  
> it rises to the sky seeking me  
> and it opens for me all  
> the doors of life.
> 
> My love, in the darkest  
> hour your laughter  
> opens, and if suddenly  
> you see my blood staining  
> the stones of the street,  
> laugh, because your laughter  
> will be for my hands  
> like a fresh sword.
> 
> Next to the sea in the autumn,  
> your laughter must raise  
> its foamy cascade,  
> and in the spring, love,  
> I want your laughter like  
> the flower I was waiting for,  
> the blue flower, the rose  
> of my echoing country.
> 
> Laugh at the night,  
> at the day, at the moon,  
> laugh at the twisted  
> streets of the island,  
> laugh at this clumsy  
> boy who loves you,  
> but when I open  
> my eyes and close them,  
> when my steps go,  
> when my steps return,  
> deny me bread, air,  
> light, spring,  
> but never your laughter  
> for I would die.  
> Pablo Neruda


End file.
